Chapter 3 - The Man Who Wanted Twelve Hours
The library became an operating room before midnight.
Reed refused to move Gabriel.
“He's too unstable for transport.”
So surgical lamps were positioned over the bed.
Sterile drapes covered the surrounding area.
Two anesthesiologists arrived.
More equipment came through the locked doors.
Marcus watched everything.
Sadie stood near the bookshelves.
Reed approached her.
“You should leave now.”
She nodded.
Then Gabriel spoke.
“She stays.”
Reed stared at him.
“She's not medical staff.”
Gabriel's voice was weak.
“She saw what twenty doctors didn't.”
“That's not a credential.”
“No.”
Gabriel looked at Sadie.
“It's better.”
Sadie stepped forward.
“Mr. Vale, I really don't need to stay.”
His eyes shifted toward her.
“Afraid?”
“Yes.”
The answer seemed to please him.
“Good. People who aren't afraid in my house are usually stupid.”
Marcus turned away to hide a smile.
Reed sighed.
“She stays against the far wall.”
The procedure began.
No theatrics.
No shouting.
Only controlled instructions.
“Pressure stable.”
“Forceps.”
“Another black strand.”
“Container.”
Sadie watched each removed piece land in a sterile tray.
One.
Two.
Three.
Five.
Eight.
Then Reed suddenly stopped.
“What?”
Marcus asked.
Reed leaned closer.
“There is something tied beneath the muscle.”
Sadie stepped forward instinctively.
“Doctor?”
“Stay there.”
He worked carefully.
Then a longer black segment emerged.
Reed stared at it.
“This wasn't accidental.”
Marcus became completely still.
“Explain.”
“The original closure doesn't require this configuration.”
“What does that mean?”
Reed looked at him.
“It means somebody deliberately placed additional material inside.”
Gabriel's eyes remained closed.
Marcus's voice became almost gentle.
“Can you prove that?”
“I can document what I'm seeing.”
“Do it.”
A nurse photographed the finding for medical records.
Then Reed removed the final strand.
For several seconds nobody spoke.
“That's all of it,” he said.
Marcus exhaled.
“How soon do we know if it worked?”
“We don't.”
Marcus stared.
Reed removed his gloves.
“We removed a likely source of injury. His body still has to survive the damage already done.”
Gabriel's blood pressure alarm sounded.
The room changed instantly.
“Pressure dropping.”
“Medication.”
“Gabriel?”
Reed moved toward the head of the bed.
Marcus stepped forward.
“What's happening?”
“Get back.”
“Doctor—”
“Marcus, get back!”
For perhaps the first time in his adult life, Marcus obeyed without argument.
Sadie pressed herself against the shelves.
Minutes stretched.
Then the alarm steadied.
Reed exhaled.
“Stable.”
Marcus closed his eyes briefly.
Sadie looked at the tray.
Black strands lay beneath the examination light.
Her mother's words returned.
Find the first wrong stitch.
Marcus's phone rang.
Dr. Shaw again.
“I identified the supplier.”
Marcus activated speaker.
“Talk.”
“Northline Marine Textiles. Their treated braid is distributed to only four commercial accounts in New Jersey.”
Gabriel's eyes opened slightly.
Marcus asked, “Names.”
Dr. Shaw read three companies.
Then the fourth.
“Harbor Nine Storage and Freight.”
Marcus froze.
Sadie noticed.
“You know it.”
He nodded.
“Gabriel owns it.”
From the bed, Gabriel whispered, “Owned.”
Marcus looked at him.
“What?”
“Sold it.”
“When?”
“Eight months ago.”
“To who?”
Gabriel's eyes opened.
“Daniel Mercer.”
Marcus swore.
Sadie didn't know the name.
Her confusion must have shown.
Marcus explained.
“Mercer used to run Gabriel's eastern docks.”
Gabriel's voice remained faint.
“Until he stole from me.”
“You fired him,” Sadie said.
“No.”
Marcus answered for him.
“Gabriel ruined him.”
Gabriel looked at Marcus.
“Accurate.”
Sadie frowned.
“And Mercer could get this thread.”
“Yes.”
“But Mercer wasn't in the operating room.”
“No.”
Marcus picked up his phone.
“So we need Voss.”
Another guard entered quickly.
“Mr. Trent.”
“What?”
“We traced Voss.”
Marcus straightened.
“Where?”
“Not Miami.”
“I know.”
The guard hesitated.
“Harbor Nine.”
Sadie's stomach dropped.
Marcus's face became unreadable.
“The same warehouse.”
“Yes.”
Gabriel whispered, “He's meeting Mercer.”
Marcus reached for his coat.
Reed looked at him.
“Where are you going?”
“To get answers.”
Gabriel opened his eyes.
“No.”
Marcus stopped.
“You're not in condition to give orders.”
“That has never stopped me.”
“Gabriel—”
“Bring them here alive.”
Sadie looked toward him.
Gabriel noticed.
“What?”
She hesitated.
“You know who tried to kill you.”
“I know who bought the thread.”
“That's not the same thing.”
Gabriel studied her.
Marcus paused.
Sadie continued.
“You have security around you constantly. Someone knew exactly where you'd be when you were shot. Someone made sure Voss treated you. Someone had access after surgery.”
The room went silent again.
Gabriel's expression sharpened despite the fever.
“Marcus.”
“Yes.”
“Who chose Voss?”
Marcus thought.
Then his face changed.
“I didn't.”
“Neither did I.”
Knox, the security chief, quietly said, “I did.”
Every eye in the room turned toward him.
Knox raised his hands slightly.
“Voss was the nearest private trauma surgeon on our emergency list.”
Gabriel stared at him.
“Who wrote the list?”
Knox didn't answer.
Marcus's voice hardened.
“Elias.”
Knox looked toward the floor.
Gabriel whispered, “Who wrote the list?”
Finally Knox answered.
“Victor Hale.”
Marcus went rigid.
Sadie knew that name.
Everyone in the house did.
Victor Hale was Gabriel Vale's attorney.
His financial adviser.
And the man who had sat beside Gabriel at Sunday dinner for fourteen years.
Gabriel closed his eyes.
Not from weakness this time.
From understanding.
“Find Victor.”
Knox reached for his radio.
Then stopped.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“Victor left the estate thirty minutes ago.”
Marcus stared at him.
“The gates were locked.”
Knox's expression darkened.
“Yes.”
Which meant only one thing.
May you like
Victor Hale had a way out nobody else knew about.
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